Happy Thanksgiving to All …
Even in these troubled times, there's so much to be thankful for. Including prepositions at the end of sentences.
Welcome to another installment of Life Its Ownself. I offer insight, analysis and context on Texas and national politics, as well as entertaining stories of life its ownself in the Lone Star State. If you like what you read, please 1) smash the Like button at the bottom of this installment, 2) subscribe to this newsletter, and 3) tell your 1,000 best friends to read and subscribe. Also, feel free to comment below. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
But first, your moment of Zen … Sunrise yesterday morning, by my Marathon neighbor Bob Freeman.
Thursday, November 28, 2024
Just a quick note to wish all my readers a Happy Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday growing up, and I read an article the other day that said most Americans agree. No wonder – the food, the family, the football. It tastes of America.
My experiences of Thanksgiving can be divided into three periods. First, as a boy, where I got to “help” my father prepare and cook the turkey. He made his own dressing, composed of stale bread, ground meat, sausage, celery, onion, and God knows what else. It’s still the best dressing I’ve ever eaten. He cooked the turkey on the grill, checking it for hours to make sure it was cooked and moist. When he was carving it, he would hand me little “test” bites to make sure it was all good. And it was.
I left my home and my family after I graduated from high school, and for 35 years did not live under my parents’ roof. Nevertheless, Thanksgiving was a “command performance” – if I was able to get to San Antonio for that day, I did. The rituals continued after my father passed in 1996, with my elder sister taking on the role of Chief Turkey Cook.
After my mother passed in 2007, the family dinner was replaced by Thanksgiving for a new generation, as my sisters and their kids and grandkids each created their own traditions. My Thanksgivings turned into “Friendsgivings” for the most part. From time to time, of course, there was no one with whom I could celebrate. Chinese restaurants, delivery pizza, and football games filled the void.
But the magic of Thanksgiving, such as it is, is not in the size of the turkey or the number of side dishes or whether Dallas wins the football game (which is sensible, given the Cowboys’ fortunes of late). It’s in the giving of thanks, slowing down the carousel of life long enough to notice all the blessings around us – our health, our families, the people, places and things that make up our lives.
I try to have an attitude of gratitude all the time, but in recent Thanksgivings I’ve done something special. I have a set of wooden mala beads. Mala is a Sanskrit word meaning “garland,” and a set of mala beads contains 108 beads.
Mala beads are used in both Hindu and Buddhist spiritual practice. They are counted off while meditating, the same way Catholics use the rosary.
On Thanksgiving, I make a list of 108 things I am grateful for – my health, last night’s sunset, a great book I just finished. But most of my list consists of persons, for that is how my blessings most often manifest to me. I write the list out, editing until I get 108, and then I sit down with my beads and contemplate each blessing, counting them off to arrive at some sense of how blessed I’ve been in the last year.
It goes without saying that you, the readers of this newsletter, especially the ones who like and comment on my scribblings, are high on the list of people for whom I am grateful. Life Its Ownself, which turns three in January, has been a great source of inspiration and perspective to me. I thank all of you for subscribing and reading.
I hope your Thanksgiving is blessed beyond measure. I hope the meals are bounteous and the belts unbuckle easily. I hope you’re surrounded by, or at least in touch with, the ones you love. For many of my friends, these feel like precipitous times, in the actual sense of approaching or going over a precipice. This is a time to count our blessings, revel in our friendships and shared purpose, and then, on Monday, recommit ourselves to celebrating and defending the country we love.
Those mala beads, what they represent, are kinda like the tests or tastes we got when standing next to the stove, or, more likely, the grill or pit. At first it was dad and his friends, then it became our friends, an old loved family dog, and on to young'uns, famliy or not. People and traditions to be thankful of, grateful for, and continued with, (you said you'd be grateful for em). Thus, too, sir, thanks should be given for the work you do and share with us. Consider it so.
Nice, thanks